Chapter #7 | The Couturier Series

Chapter 7 – The Couturier | By Nikki Mahlia

The city of Hadassah was dusty and crowded.

Slipping past the guards with a glamour had proven easy, but the risk of using my power to do it meant that if hounds were around, they would sniff us out. Perhaps one might say that luck had been on my side, that no hounds had been spotted around the forest, but while we walked through the thick forest, I hummed a tune loud enough for the hounds to hear, but soft enough to go undetected by even Avel who stood next to me.

There were frequencies that the creatures were adverse to, and I knew the guards wouldn’t have left their stations without them.

Needless to say, the risks I took paid off and here we were in Hadassah. I’d planned to stay the night, and so I was able to rent a small room just below a bridge that overlooked a murky stream that pooled into a lake of similar color and stench. It hadn’t been my first choice, but the room was a better option than the city front, where guards had littered every street corner.

Autumn Ball was a few days away, and I’d already proven myself useful when I helped mend a dress that had torn after a chariot had splashed muddy water all over it and its ribbons got caught in the spikes of the wheel. The girl had cried tirelessly, her mother flustered as the commotion attracted the attention of passers-by.

I had my shears and sewing needles, some extra ribbon on hand, and some tape, so I mended the dress right there, and the mother had been so pleased that she asked me to complete one of the gowns she’d been working on for weeks.

The room came in handy. Despite the water-logged floors and walls and its moldy scent, it was decent enough to finish the gown, and in no time, I held in my hand a beautiful blue dress that glowed under silver lights.

“When is she coming for this?” Avel asked as he leaned against the window sill, stirring a spoon in his bowl of soup.

“Tonight.”

“You still haven’t told me your name or what you are or how you managed to escape the Reaper’s Council. I told you everything about me.”

“Almost everything.”

Avel grunted.

“You didn’t tell me you were a Churan.”

“I said I was from the East village.”

“The East Village is not Chura.” I clicked my tongue. “And the client who sold you out is a female named Isabella. A fellow mage as well.”

Avel furrowed his brows. “Are you also a mage?”

I shook my head as I hung the dress in the tiny wardrobe that came with the room. “I told you, I’m a Reaper.”

“A rogue Reaper.” He corrected. “And Isabella is a half-Reaper herself. Though, in truth, I doubt she knows.”

I turned to face him. “So, you’re familiar with Reapers?”

He nodded. “My father is a Reaper.”

“Do you know who your father is?”

Avel shook his head, then pouted. A glint of light shimmered from his eyes. “My father was also a tailor.”

“You think I’m your father? I don’t have children. At least, even if I were to suspect it, then I guess there would be the question of who would be the mother.”

“Adrina.”

“From the East.”

“You know her.”

“I know of her. She is a Churan, a Worshipper, I suppose.”

“Then you perhaps know my father then.”

I sat on one of the stools. “I believe your father is an Ancient God. Amon. He is a Reaper and a tailor as well. I am sorry you don’t know him, but when I worked in Chura, Adrina’s sister frequented my atelier. She complained much about Adriana and her secret dealings with Amon. That is how I know of her.”

Avel seemed interested in the story. “So, can you help me find her?”

I shook my head. “I think that is a task you’ll have to undertake by yourself. After all, I am too on the run. Do you really think showing up in Chura serves my interest?”

“If you hadn’t left the Council—”

“I left because I no longer wanted to be a Reaper.”

Abel frowned. “That’s not how it works. You cannot simply stop being a Reaper. Death will always follow you. It will always find you.”

I laughed. “Well then, there is something else you don’t know about me. I am not an average Reaper.”

Silence waxed between us before Avel broke it with a draining sigh. “I can see from your demeanor that you won’t tell me anything else. At least allow me to call you something.”

“Izzy,” I responded. “That is what I go by.”